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If only I’d brought a blanket from the castle, a slab of pork, or even a handful of turnips. If only I hadn’t run away as fast as I could once the baron offered me my freedom.
My name is Hannah Dory, and I am—
A piercing scream split the air. I froze, but only for an instant. Then I began to sprint. I knew that sound! My heart was in mythroat as I crashed through the underbrush. Briars snagged my skirt and tore at my hands, but I kept going. After a few breathless minutes I came out into a small clearing. I stopped, gasping, and looked around, and I saw a giant hawk struggling to free something from a thorny vine.
Then I saw what had screamed: a rabbit, its back broken, still caught in the bird’s grip.
I ran toward the hawk, waving my arms and yelling. “Go! Go!” The panicked bird flapped its great wings wildly, and a moment later, it was aloft, leaving its still-living prey behind.
I fell to my knees in gratitude. And then I crawled forward, lifted a rock, and smashed the rabbit’s skull.
It had been a long time since I’d been lucky enough to have a rabbit to skin, but I hadn’t forgotten how it was done. Making little cuts in the skin just above the rabbit’s knees, I stuck two fingers into the slits and pulled the skin down from the legs as if I were taking off a pair of stockings. Then I lay the rabbit on its back and cut through the skin of its belly from its tail to its neck. I was careful not to cut too deep, because if I pierced the stomach or the intestines, I’d ruin the meat. Then I stepped on the rabbit’s back feet to hold it in place, and yanked the skin up toward the rabbit’s head. It was grisly work, but it was over quickly.
At home, I put the carcass into the pot over the fire, along with water, a few shreds of old cabbage, and the crust of Zenna’s bread that I had not eaten. The fire crackled, and soon the smell—rich, meaty, wonderful—filled the cottage.
Then I took my little brother aside. “You must take care of Mother,” I said. “She’ll forget to eat. She might forget to feed you.So you must do all the work. You have to make sure that the two of you survive.”
His lower lip trembled. “Why? Why can’t you do it?”
“I have to go,” I said. “I failed to save us once. But I’m not going to fail again.”
CHAPTER 58
There was no farmer or merchant to hide behind as I crossed the drawbridge to stand before the guards at the castle gatehouse. But it didn’t matter. I was done pretending to be anything but who and what I was.
The guard named Finnet greeted me with a glob of phlegm he spat to the ground. “I knowyou,” he said. “And you can turn around and go back to the shithole you came from.”
“Don’t send her away yet,” said Gorn, the bearded one. “We have unfinished business, she and I. Come closer, thief. You wouldn’t take a kiss from me, no—and you spit in my face. I should cut you in two right now. But I’m a merciful man. A generous man, too, and so I’ve got something else to give you. It’ll fill you right up.” Leering horribly, he grabbed his crotch as he lurched toward me.
“Fill me?” I said, curling my lip at him. “I doubt it.”
His face darkened and his hand went to the knife at his belt. “Then I’ll give you this instead.” The next thing I knew, his blade was at my throat.
I didn’t flinch. “Certainlythisis harder,” I said through gritted teeth.
I felt a bright flash of pain as the blade punctured my skin. A warm trickle of blood ran down my neck.
Gorn snarled. He put his other hand between my legs and squeezed. “So soft,” he whispered. “So lovely. But now you’re about to get your dress all bloody.”
“Get away from her!”
I gasped and put my hand over my bleeding throat as the guard stepped back. We both knew that cold voice well.
Baron Joachim stood just inside the raised portcullis, the reins of a great black horse held loosely in his hand. The guards melted away to either side of the gatehouse opening. I could see Gorn trembling. But the baron didn’t even glance at him. Instead he was staring at me.
“You’ve come back,” he said. He stroked his mount’s velvet nose. “I can’t imagine why.”
“For the same reason as the first time,” I said. “Desperation.” I took my sticky fingers away from my neck. Looking at them, I felt suddenly dizzy, and there was a low roaring in my ears. Was the cut deeper than I thought? Or was I just weak with hunger and fatigue? My voice cracked as I spoke. “I didn’t know what else to do. Where else to go.”
The baron’s eyes were fixed on my neck. “You’re hurt,” he said.
I held up red-smeared fingers. “This is nothing,” I said, with far more certainty than I felt.
“I will have it tended to,” he said.
I shook my head and the world blurred. “I don’t need any such thing. I only need to speak with you.”
“His time’s worth more than your life,” hissed Gorn.
